Twelve Degrees of Separation
by Lady Eldaelen
Summary: A dozen vignettes covering the blending of two worlds. DBZ x HP AU. One shot, complete.


**Twelve Degrees of Separation  
**~ Lady Eldaelen ~

* * *

**1.**

"Hufflepuff!"

The Sorting Hat announced its decision as triumphantly as ever, but by the first syllable, the entire Hall had gone unnervingly silent.

The silence lasted only a moment before it broke and the ambient level of noise increased tenfold to a near-explosion as even the most respectful students skipped right over murmuring to discuss and object and generally freak out at above-normal levels. Half the Gryffindors were on their feet in protest, as were the Hufflepuff prefects. Several first years were actually crying.

As the din continued to rise, the newest Hufflepuff pulled off the Sorting Hat and schooled his expression into its usual unreadable mask. He steadfastly refused to make eye contact with the lone Gryffindor boy that had vaulted to his feet with the others but remained silent and now was trying to catch his attention with animated waving. He also bypassed glancing at the blue-haired girl glaring at him from the Slytherin table. Instead he set his sights on the corner seat of the Hufflepuff table closest to him. As he neared, the students in the vicinity slid further down their benches, as if a physical barrier pushed them aside.

The Headmaster let the cacophony continue for a minute longer before standing up. He lifted his hands and the Hall gradually quieted.

"Just a few words, if I may, before we tuck in. Tolerance, empathy, endurance. You have a long year ahead of you, make it count." He finished with a wink and twinkle in his eyes that every student thought was directed at them.

The newest Hufflepuff didn't bother hiding a snort as he folded his arms across his chest, focusing on the stars blinking into view on the ceiling. He pinpointed exactly where his home planet would have appeared had it been the right season… and still existed.

The eager Gryffindor pondered the headmaster's words and decided maybe his immediate disappointment would still turn into to the start of something great.

The angry Slytherin dismissed the old man's words as easily as she did her own father's lectures. Dumbledore was so full of hot air.

* * *

**2\. **

Krillin adjusted his yellow and black tie in a futile attempt to calm his nerves. He slung his bag higher on his shoulder and forced all traces of anxiety off his face.

_Not that it'll help much_, he mused silently, pushing the Great Hall door open. _He probably smells fear and takes pleasure in its aroma_.

Spotting his target, Krillin veered towards his House's table and flopped down as nonchalantly as possible next to the lone figure at the far end.

"Good morning, Vegeta," he greeted, sliding two sausages off a platter and onto his empty plate. A couple heaping spoonfuls of eggs were added next. "Did you sleep well? I noticed you were up early this morning."

Krillin pulled over a vat of pumpkin juice and was halfway through filling his glass when he took his first look at his seatmate. The stoic boy had actually stopped eating to stare at him, bewilderment coloring his expression.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta hissed.

"Eating breakfast."

"Why are you sitting _here_ instead of...?" he gestured to the handful of Hufflepuffs crowded at the opposite end of the table staring at the two of them with something akin to scandal etched all over their faces.

"Goku's a late sleeper and I didn't want to eat alone," Krillin replied. He took a gulp of juice before continuing, "and you looked like you could use-"

"Do not finish that sentence with _'a friend,' _shorty."

"You're like, two inches taller than me! And I was going to say _'some company,'_ but since you brought it up… I know you don't _want_ to be here, but you _are_ here. Why not make the most of it?"

"Did Kakarott talk you into this?"

"No. I haven't seen him since dinner last night." Krillin paused from eating another bite of eggs to watch Vegeta refill his plate for the second time since he'd sat down. "The house-elves are really going to have to work overtime with two of you to feed."

Vegeta didn't respond, he simply reached over to pull another plateful of toast closer.

"Look, Goku's a good friend. I saw how bummed he was last night when you didn't get sorted into Gryffindor with him," Krillin elaborated. "And I know you're going to do your own thing regardless, but you don't have to go through your time here alone. We don't have to be friends, but… well, you'll always have an ally."

Vegeta blinked a couple of times, then returned to eating. But he didn't tell Krillin to leave, which Krillin took as a plus.

* * *

**3\. **

Chi Chi lived in a fairly isolated village and didn't usually see any of her schoolmates over school breaks, this past summer included. She was too shy to approach Goku's compartment on the train, already full with his Hufflepuff sidekicks and the Briefs girl and the two Ravenclaw upperclassmen that had fallen in with the odd group. Instead she chose a compartment with her fellow third year Slytherins. She was pleased to find that they all remained friendly and easily included her in their conversations as they caught up with each other. Exactly ten minutes and thirty-two seconds after the snack cart rolled through, not that she was keeping track, Goku walked by her compartment. She blushed when they locked eyes and he gave her a small grin.

Maybe one day she'd work up the courage to talk to him.

* * *

**4.**

"All ki-adepts have at least a modicum of magic in them. Many scholars believe ki manipulation was an early ancestor to our modern wizardry today. The enrollment of children with high ki levels can be traced back to Uranai Baba's tenure teaching Divination at Hogwarts. She foresaw her baby brother thriving at the school despite his relative lack of pure magical ability and due to her petitions, Master Roshi was indeed one of the first ki-adepts admitted. He eventually returned to the muggle world, relying less on magic as do most ki-adepts who graduate from Hogwarts."

Tien rubbed the bridge of his nose, thankful at least that the sullen fourth year in front of him looked less likely to punch the wall than he had at the start of the requested mini-history lesson.

"Yamcha, you knew this was going to be hard when you got your letter."

"The rest of you just make it look so easy. Top of the class -top of multiple classes. Prefects and team captains and special access to the restricted section for extra credit essays thirty inches long."

"Now you're just exaggerating."

"Am I, Mr. Prefect with the 110% in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Yamcha shot back.

"We're Ravenclaws," Chiaotzu offered. "We like studying as much as a good fight."

"So what's Goku's excuse?"

"He's Goku. He doesn't need any other explanation. And you shouldn't be comparing yourself to him or anyone else for that matter," Tien chided firmly.

"I guess not."

"That's more like it. Now shouldn't you get back to the dungeons? I thought I heard Bulma at breakfast this morning say you were taking her to Hogsmeade for lunch?"

"Oh man, that's right! Thanks, I don't want to be late!"

* * *

**5.**

When the owl delivered his seventh year papers to him at Capsule Corp, Goku was pleasantly surprised to find the Head Boy badge among his book and supplies lists. He'd been a prefect since fifth year, as had Krillin, but Krillin hadn't been named Head Boy. Neither had Bulma been named Head Girl, nor any of his other close friends, save Tien.

Tien, however, was long out of Hogwarts. They had all graduated and moved on to their own lives away from school, even Vegeta. Granted, Krillin and Vegeta and himself all practically lived at Capsule Corp, so they and Bulma never went too long without seeing each other. But this year was going to be different in a way Goku was dreading just a tiny bit.

When he boarded the Hogwarts Express for his final trip to school and settled into the same familiar compartment for the last time, its emptiness shocked him. He'd never ridden alone. He didn't think he wanted to.

As he waged an internal battle over whether fleeing now would negate his six previous years in Gryffindor, the faintest of knocks echoed like thunder claps in the silence. Goku's gaze shot to the door, half-opened now by presumably the slim figure in a green trimmed sweater, hand still poised by the door frame.

"I thought we could share a compartment until we meet with the prefects," the girl offered quietly. As she lowered her arm, Goku caught sight of the Head Girl badge pinned to her sweater. Thick fringe obscured her eyes as she dipped her head down, struggling to maneuver her trunk through the entry. He rushed to help her, easily stowing it next to his own in the rack above the seats. She took the bench across from him and they shared one of the same tiny smiles that made up the bulk of communication between them over the past six years.

"I'm Chi Chi, by the way."

"I know," Goku responded immediately. "I mean, ah, you're the Ox King's daughter, right?"

He waited until Chi Chi nodded in the affirmative before continuing. "My grandpa used to talk about your dad. He said they were good friends."

"My father mentions Gohan often, too. He's always asking me how you're doing in school," she replied, blushing slightly, "but I never know what to tell him."

"Something good, I hope."

"Something vague is more like it. This is the most we've ever talked before."

"Then we should make an effort to change that this year," Goku declared seriously with a nod.

Another barely noticeable grin, but this time it illuminated her face with the loveliest glow.

"I think I'd like that, Goku."

"I think I'd like that, too."

* * *

**6\. **

"I know it was one of Chi Chi's biggest regrets, that Gohan didn't attend Hogwarts. I mean, she understood why he chose not to go, but she still hated that he even had to choose, more so after he died."

The boy in front of Minerva McGonagall paused, trying and failing to read her inscrutable gaze, and eventually continued on unprompted when she didn't interject. "My mother, too, wanted to give me a chance to explore my magical side. And I won't lie, I'm looking forward to spending time with my father. Even though none of these people are really my… anything."

The wistfulness in his voice nearly broke her heart and Minerva thought of the small collection of papers tucked away in the middle left drawer of her desk, of correspondence from her old students, their thank you notes and birthday cards, wedding and baby announcements. Over the past year, however, she'd been forced to add far too many obituaries and notices of memorial services. They were still healing, the school, the students, the community she had chosen so long ago to embrace. This boy, she knew, had seen war far greater than their own, had fought and protected and shouldered the weight of untold responsibility as much as Harry had. He had come here looking for respite, but Minerva could already envision the empathy and leadership and comfort he'd bring simply walking the halls and sitting in classes and communing with her students.

"Well, I believe it's safe to say that young baby Trunks is really your younger self, of a sort." Minerva responded with a pragmatic smile that broke the tension in their little booth at the Leaky Cauldron.

_And Son Gohan is slated to receive his own letter in a few years_, she thought to herself. _Perhaps he'll make a different choice this time._

This older, battle-hardened and world-wearied Trunks let out a sigh of relief. "Sure, and I know Mom's been talking to the Department of Mysteries people to see if I'm even allowed to stay here. But if I am, I'd really like the opportunity to study at Hogwarts. I won't let you down, ma'am."

She wanted to give him that opportunity and more, so much more, if only to selfishly cling to a sliver of hope that her own world would be able to recover and flourish again.

"No. I suppose you won't."

* * *

**7\. **

"I wish you were coming with me."

"You don't need me there, kid. I'd just get in the way."

"How come Kami or the other parts of you never went to Hogwarts?"

"I'm not sure. You could always go ask the old man yourself."

"Dad says we shouldn't go to the Lookout unless it's an emergency."

"Gohan, you're not scared of going off to school, are you?"

The boy refused to answer.

"You do realize you spent the summer defending the planet from some overpowered alien threat, yet again. There is nothing you can't handle at school."

"I just don't want to let my parents -or anyone else, down."

"That's pretty much an impossibility."

* * *

**8\. **

A hush settled over the group of children as the next name was called. It was as much a mark of respect as curiosity and the eyes of the crowd shifted towards the owner of said moniker. His free hand fiddled briefly with the hem of his sleeve. Fingers flipped the edge nervously, black to maroon to black again before releasing the cloth and steeling into a tight fist.

A step forward, a brandish of a wand (eleven and a quarter, dragon heartstring, cherry), the perfect delivery of an advanced incantation, more complex than a first year should be attempting. The tip of his wand glowed, flickered, and erupted into a stream of illuminated quicksilver. The light grew and morphed into a distinctly humanoid shape that shot around the expansive room in a tight spiral. It paused at the ceiling and hovered for a moment, transparent cloak flapping silently in unfelt breeze, then it dove, shimmering into ether just before reaching the boy's wand.

Silence continued for exactly two more heartbeats before all the first years cheered as one, the older students processed their own awe, and everyone descended on the boy in congratulations. A look of utter disbelief was etched on his face.

"Well that was unexpected," Justin Fitch-Fletchley murmured, easing back into his seat in the balcony where several professors and older students observed the Patronus practice below. The former Hufflepuff and Deputy Head of Magical Foreign Relations grinned and pulled a short scroll from his robes, checking through it with his wand tip. "Looks like some of his family and friends are going to be disappointed."

Over Justin's shoulder, the Head Boy studied the parchment with a frown. "Only four of them thought he'd produce a corporeal Patronus?"

"And two thought he'd fail completely," Justin added.

Filius Flitwick let out a high laugh, "They must not be very close friends. That boy should have been in my house, with his skill."

"If I'm not mistaken, his robes are trimmed for Gryffindor," Minerva McGonagall parried with her colleague before rounding on the Ministry official. "Don't tell me you came all the way here to oversee a bet, Mr. Fitch-Fletchley."

"It is in my job description to keep an eye out for all the exchange students, Professor."

"So who won?" the Head Boy pressed.

"Oh, no one exactly," Justin said. "Three thought it would be a dragon, one other thought a monkey. Whatever he produced, I'm fairly certain it was neither."

"That's a fact," agreed the Head Boy. "I would have guessed a dragon myself."

Below them, the students were slowly dispersing. The Head Boy brushed a few strands of lilac hair behind his ear before standing and gathering his schoolbag.

"Figures, out of all the possible familiars, his takes the form of an alien," he mused quietly to himself as he took his leave. "Guess I've got some owls to send."

* * *

**9\. **

Videl was surprised to see the second year slide into a back row seat in her Ancient Runes class. She thought he'd wandered into the wrong room, but Professor Babbling arrived and they immediately dived into the course outline and then the first lesson and the boy remained. He managed to earn ten points for their House during the lecture, so she wasn't irritated at his presence so much as curious.

It wasn't until lunch when she mentioned the boy to Erasa and Sharpner that she learned more.

"Oh, Gohan? The kid who has that weird corporeal Patronus?" Sharpener asked. "Yeah, I heard he sat in on some Arithmancy lessons last year, too. Angela said he had the highest grade in the class."

"He took Arithmancy as a first year?!"

"Only until Professor Vector agreed to let him do an independent study. He's some sort of genius."

"He's cute, too. Don't you think, Videl?"

"You think every boy is cute, Erasa."

"I guess I do, but _you_ don't usually blush when I point one out."

* * *

**10.**

Trunks wondered what could possibly be taking a semi-sentient hat so long to respond. He'd only asked if it could tell him why his dad had been sorted into Hufflepuff. Unless what his grandpa had theorized was true and the Sorting Hat only worked with the memories of the person wearing it. In which case, all he knew were stories of his dad's Sorting from others in the family, his mom and Goku and Chi Chi and Krillin. No real insight from the man himself.

The fuzzy silence from the Hat's presence in his mind was giving him a headache.

_What is it that you want, Trunks?_

What did he want? Trunks thought he'd gone to Hogwarts prepared for this moment. He'd asked Gohan and Videl so many questions over the summer that the two spent a week hiding from him under the guise of needing a second honeymoon. He'd nearly gotten grounded by doing the same pestering to his mom and grandpa. He knew his grandpa had been a Ravenclaw and his grandma was pure muggle. His mother had been in Slytherin and his father was, of course, the most unlikeliest of Hufflepuffs. His other (older, darker, stronger, future) self had been sorted into Gryffindor, gotten eleven OWLs, been appointed Head Boy. He knew that the Hat took into account individual personalities and potentials, and even more so, personal preference. But what did he want, really?

_I want to be myself. _

"Slytherin!"

* * *

**11\. **

"Of course he's looking up to you. He always has, for whatever reason."

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably against the Sons' kitchen wall. He could never tell if Kakarott's wife picked verbal fights with him because that was how they'd always interacted, or if she still really did want Kakarott to kill him when he finally killed her one of these days. He'd only asked if they'd noticed a change in the boy's behavior since returning from Hogwarts for the winter holiday or if was just him picking up on something imagined.

"And you're the only other one in our families who was sorted into Hufflepuff," Chi Chi continued on with her train of thought and her preparations for the holiday party, oblivious to Vegeta's inner monologue. "He's spent nearly three months listening to House stories of your exploits."

"I didn't have any exploits."

"Oh, please. You and Krillin were in on all of Bulma and Goku's adventures. Here, hold these," Chi Chi ordered, loading Vegeta's arms with half the contents of the fridge. "And he's already heard too many stories starring Goku, none as badger-oriented as your House Lore. Get used to it, Goten's found a new role model and he's not letting go. Trust me, I've tried to deter him."

* * *

**12.**

The admittance of ki-adepts at Hogwarts, just like any trend-turned-fad, be it ruffle-trimmed dress robes or pygmy puffs or pursuing the legendary deathly hallows, waxes and wanes. One by one the unusual graduates stay in the community or leave. Some marry muggles, some marry other witches or wizards, some never settle down. A few turn dark, many more fight for the light. In other words, they get on just like anyone else.

Those that leave to pursue their own brand of inner magic eventually give up their wands. It just isn't practical for their sort of combat, not with auras blazing and mountains crumbling in the wake of their own energies. They'll utilize their nonverbal spells, incorporate them into their own attacks, strengthen their already-formidable defenses, until even the effort of summoning that distinctly magical part of themselves grows fuzzy and weak before disappearing altogether.

Time marches ever forward.

The Muggle Studies professor slips quietly into the Great Hall to watch the Sorting. A few of her older students notice her and wave. She hardly ever joins in on the Opening Feast and the keenest of the bunch realize her presence there this time may just be the start of something different. They know her to be warm and kind and extremely insightful. They know she is apt to tie her hair back in a faded orange bandana more often than not before running her students through a vigorous regimen of calisthenics at the end of every class.

What they don't know is that she spent her own school years adventuring through the galaxy instead of sitting OWLs and playing quidditch. That she lived so long outside the touch of the magic world, she didn't even care that she didn't know what she was missing.

She claps proudly as a tiny boy with a head full of black hair sticking out haphazardly in wild spikes takes a seat among his new fellow Gryffindors.

What they don't know is that at some point after Death claimed his tolls and she became the oldest in her family, she knew she had to make a change or she was going to go mad.

The memories rush in, so fast and so intense that she has to reach out a steadying hand on the column she's standing by before she falls over. Her whole life flashes by in snippets, sun-soaked hillsides used as sparring grounds, alien landscapes and acrid air not meant for quarter-human lungs, battles and parties and apocalypses and family.

What they don't know is that when she interviewed she hadn't even considered that they might say no. She's got all her father's intelligence and her mother's tenacity and her grandfather's unwavering optimism. She's got nowhere else to go.

The final first year takes his seat on the stool. The upswept flame of his own thick hair seems perfectly matched to the curve of the Sorting Hat as it is lowered onto his head.

What they don't know is that on the darkest nights of the new moon, she jumps out her window to fly high above the school grounds alone and so very free.

"Hufflepuff!"

* * *

**End**

* * *

I have no idea where most of this came from, as I've been on an FMA fic reading binge of late. As far as Vegeta being a badger in this random world's scenario, I started with the overlooked choice to not put him in Slytherin and went from there. My guess is the only thing he would think about with the Sorting Hat on his head was being placed_ anywhere _but with Goku or Bulma. Aside from the Hat granting him that small allowance, I honestly don't think he'd care where he ended up, not with his low regard for silly human constructs like house alignment at a school of magic. And as the 'puffs will take in anyone, they certainly got a handful with Vegeta.

Part 8 was originally posted on my livejournal alongside a sketch of Gohan's Patronus (Piccolo, of course). That was back in 2011, so I guess I do have some idea where this all came from, stewing in the inky depths of my Gluttony-hole (interdimensional Capsule-mechanism?) of a brain alongside all the other fandoms constantly mashing together.

* * *

080914 ff.n 062611 lj (part 8)


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